Arising
by Fierceawakening
Summary: Sequel to Inception. Starscream is new to Megatron's unit and quickly figures out that his commander has big plans. He asks what they are, and Megatron decides to make sure he's sufficiently excited about them. M for spark-sex, D/s, some SM.


"So, what now, Commander?" Starscream lounged on Megatron's berth, smirking. His cockpit was still retracted, the chest plates beneath parted, the exposed spark pulsing with mischief.

"Mmh?" Megatron looked up from the datapads on his desk. What now, indeed? He had finished with Starscream, but hadn't yet ordered him to leave. Now, seeing the Seeker leer at him, he wondered if he should regret not sending him away.

Still, his new lieutenant's easy insolence surprised him. Apparently, Starscream grew bored easily. Bored... and restless.

A restless war machine was dangerous for its recklessness, if nothing else. It behooved Megatron to find out what exactly went through the other mech's processor when boredom overtook him.

So Megatron had intentionally ignored him, turning away and going about his work as if Starscream weren't there at all, waiting to see how the Seeker would react.

And now, it seemed, Starscream was reacting. Megatron fought not to smile.

He propped himself up on one hand, his wings twitching in irritation. "I mean, Commander, that for the whole time I've been part of this unit you've been systematically ridding it of the mechs assigned to it by High Command. You just replaced the last of the fliers with Skywarp and Thundercracker, on some combination of my recommendation and their performance on an incomprehensible battery of tests that made no sense to anyone but you. That means there is absolutely no one left in this unit who wasn't either chosen by you or approved by you personally."

He smirked. "Everyone in the Cybertronian army knows Commander Megatron has an ego, but surely you have more in mind than filling your unit with a bunch of yes mechs. You did choose me, after all."

Megatron shook his head. His new lieutenant was nothing if not perceptive. "Perhaps I simply prefer to surround myself with the best."

Starscream grinned, his wings twitching again in obvious response to the praise. "Well, of course."

Then his spark flared in irritation. "But obviously you have a reason for this besides getting tired of dull fools. You've gone to great lengths to tailor this unit to your specifications, Megatron."

The Seeker's optics gleamed, red and bright. "So tell me, _Commander. _You have your handpicked fighting force. So. What. Now?"

Megatron looked at him, thinking of telling him to close up his chest. There was no sense in having a serious conversation with the Seeker while he insisted on displaying himself like that.

Or was there? Perhaps Megatron could make use of his lieutenant's brazenness after all.

Smirking, he stood up and crossed the room. Reaching the berth, he bent over it, staring down at the Seeker. Starscream yelped, surprised to find Megatron looming over him, protesting even as he lay back. His wings twitched in obvious agitation, then stilled as Megatron reached out dark hands to stroke them.

"I asked you a question," Starscream sputtered. "Surely you can wait for more interfacing until you answer it!"

"Oh, I don't think I'm the one who can't wait," Megatron answered, feeling the wings tremble under his hands.

Starscream glared, his optics flickering.

"And I am answering your question," Megatron continued, tightening his hands into fists and pressing into the wings beneath them. "Which you would know, if you -"

The Seeker cycled a heavy pant, his hands wrapping tight around Megatron's back. But it was no easy caress. Blue fingertips dug deep into the seams between the plating there.

_Good, _Megatron thought, his fists grinding hard into the wings beneath them as his own spark flared in response to Starscream's touch.

"Tell me, Starscream," he murmured, leaning down to whisper it into the Seeker's audio receptors. "What do you see when you step outside this camp?"

"Nothing worth looking at," Starscream snapped, surprised. "What has that got to do with - with any of this?"

"Everything," Megatron rasped, sliding his lip plates down the Seeker's neck and biting lightly at the cabling there.

Starscream tilted his head away, wanting more pain. Megatron could feel the spark below him crackle, tendrils of its energy reaching to bury themselves in the young commander's chest plates. Megatron growled in answer and bit at the cabling of Starscream's neck, hard, tasting energon. Starscream shrieked, a piercing cry, and ground his thin fingers in the seams of Megatron's back, hard.

His own spark whirled hot in his chest. He wanted his new lieutenant not simply to know what he had in mind but to feel it, to sense it, to crave it. He wanted Starscream's very spark to flare with heat at the mere thought of his vision.

He traced his fingertips along Starscream's wing, rumbling with satisfaction as the lithe frame beneath him shuddered.

"They call this the Golden Age of Cybertron," Megatron sneered. "I call it nothing. I call it an era usurped by those it does not belong to."

Starscream shifted in his grasp. "Then you want civil war?" His optics flared, though whether in anger, fear, or eagerness, Megatron couldn't tell.

Megatron lowered his head to Starscream's open spark chamber, tracing his lip plates along its edge. The Seeker gasped, his hands stilling against Megatron's back.

Megatron's own optics flickered as Starscream's spark swelled, its heat searing the young commander's faceplates. He opened his mouth to trace his dental plates where his lips had been, then bit. He tasted energon, electrical and warm, and smirked against the heated metal. _So you are capable of self-control_, he thought, licking at the wound.

Starscream twitched, his cooling fans roaring. Megatron dug his fists hard into the thin metal of the Seeker's wings, feeling it dent under his hands as he pushed Starscream back down.

He drew his head away, his spark pulsing as he stared down at the red, swirling lightning that was Starscream's spark. His faceplates still burned with its heat, and his own chest ached in answer.

"Civil war, Starscream? I would prefer war against more interesting opponents. But if it comes to that, I welcome it.

"Still, you miss my point. The Cybertronian military is a joke. When was the last time they banded together to fight an invasion? Or better still, to conquer worlds?"

"Conquer worlds?" Starscream repeated, licking his lip plates.

Megatron cycled a heavy pant, watching Starscream whimper as his spark surged against the wound his bite had left. His chest plates thudded loudly, wanting to open.

"The mechs out there hide themselves in ceremonial plating that makes them slow. Plodding. Useless. They believe the lie that our cousins have sold them: that Cybertron wants this peace."

Starscream's optics lit, a bright crimson that echoed the spinning flame of his spark. "And you want war -"

"What I want, Starscream, is for us to become what we were meant to be. We are weapons. We are built to bring planets to their knees. To raze worlds and rebuild them in our image, terrible and strong."

Starscream's hands scored a line of flame down Megatron's back, and the young commander's chest plates cracked open in response, the red light of his spark illuminating the dark face below him.

He grinned, staring down at it, thinking of how Starscream would look soaring over the ruin of a planet, the light of its burning playing on his faceplates, his weapons, his wings.

"So that's why you need us," Starscream answered, matching his commander's smile with a smirk of his own. "To pillage for you."

He laughed, the reflected light on his faceplates dancing. "I'm sure you've guessed I'm fine with that. But tell me, Megatron. What happens when those of us you've chosen decide we no longer need you?"

Megatron scowled. "No longer need me, Starscream? I said I want you to raze worlds, yes. But without me, what will you be? Destroyers... reduced to nothing but marauding bandits."

His chest plates opened fully, the bright red blaze of his spark mirrored in his lieutenant's gleaming optics. Watching Starscream's faceplates twist into a grimace, he felt his spark swell even hotter, tendrils stretching out from it as it pulsed, overfull, desperate to release its charge.

Its sound thundering through his systems, Megatron ground out a last retort. "Or do you mean to tell me, Starscream, that you have the patience to manage an empire?"

Ignoring Starscream's screech of indignation, he set the energy free, a bolt of flame speeding to pierce the orb of light below him.

Starscream keened as it cleaved him, slicing through his very center, filling every part of him with Megatron's heat. His hands tightened into claws, gouging at his commander's plating, and Megatron felt the sticky heat of his own energon spilling down his back.

He growled, the pain feeding his yearning as he felt Starscream receive him.

_Yes, _he thought, exultant, imagining the red heat that roiled around him now consuming cities, devouring and eager. He could hear Starscream's cries, and in his audio receptors the din became the cries of the dying, the war whoops of his conquering army, the shriek of galaxies themselves as they twisted to his will.

_Your passion will set worlds ablaze for me._

Starscream squirmed beneath him, and Megatron knew he must be imagining it too, the conflagration rising as they marched through fields of battle, bringing death and terrible resurrection.

Megatron half expected the Seeker to try to wrest control. Starscream's spark was heavy now, brimming both with his own energy and his commander's alike, and it would have been a simple thing to try to set it free, to spear the spark that had speared him. Megatron growled, determined not to let him.

But it never happened. Starscream's hands shook against his back, smearing the energon there. "_More,_" he panted. "I want -"

Megatron bellowed, half laughing, half triumphant. He reared back, drawing the energy of his partner's spark with him, wrenching it free so violently that Starscream howled in agony.

Then it tore free from him, unbidden, drawn inexorably toward the maelstrom of longing below it so quickly that it was Megatron's turn to shudder in pain and surprise. He cycled a heavy pant, feeling his energy drawn further and further in, the roiling tempest of Starscream's spark tossing him about, directionless, lost.

He opened his hands, digging his fingertips into Starscream's wings, feeling the metal scratch beneath his fingers. Then he growled, finally remembering who he was.

Roaring again, he sent another bolt of energy speeding into Starscream, flooding every corner of the spark whirling beneath him with his heat and light.

"You are mine, Starscream," he rasped. "Never forget that."

Starscream's head tossed from side to side as if in a gesture of defiance, his frame convulsing as it fought to contain more energy than it could hold.

Then Starscream shuddered once and was still, the energy bursting out of him in a ring of bright fire as he overloaded. Megatron gripped Starscream's wings hard as the energy tore through him as well, his vision flaring the color of molten metal, of burning cities, of devastated worlds.

_Now you understand,_ he thought as everything else disappeared.


End file.
